


Landing Party

by lorcaswhisky (aristofranes)



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Academy-era silliness, Gen, also there is sludge, in which gabriel is outwitted once again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 13:05:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15663798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aristofranes/pseuds/lorcaswhisky
Summary: A landing party training exercise goes awry, and Cadets Cornwell and Lorca are forced to improvise.(fic prompt)





	Landing Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wir_sind_die_Jager](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wir_sind_die_Jager/gifts).



> geek-girl-extraordinaire requested a buddy comedy about a party gone awry at Starfleet Academy. I interpreted 'party' very loosely, and silliness ensued...

“It’s not all bad.”

“Which specific part of this is not bad?”

Kat considered the challenge.

“Well, we still have the shuttle.”

A sad  _ blurp  _ bubbled up from somewhere under the surface of the sludgy bog they stood beside.

“Our definitions of ‘have’ are clearly very different,” said Lorca stiffly.

He tugged off a boot and upended it. Thick brown slime oozed out and splatted to the ground. 

“Great. Just -  _ great _ ,” Lorca muttered, pulling a face as he stuffed his soggy foot back inside. “Any luck with comms? Or is that something else we ‘have’?”

Kat flipped open her communicator, releasing a large glob of sludge which propelled itself towards Lorca's face.

He wiped it away with as much dignity as he could muster. Or tried to, at least. His hand was muddy too, so all he actually managed to do was smear it across his cheek.

“No signal,” she managed, practically vibrating with the effort of holding in her laughter.

“Right,” he said, and turned on his heel, squelching slightly.

“What are you doing?”

“Improvising,” he snapped. “There’s a hill about a mile south - if I can get high enough I should be able to boost our signal and send an emergency beacon.”

“But--”

“You scout for potential campsites, in case we’re stuck here. High and dry.” 

“Yeah, but--”

“Try to keep a low profile. We’ve got no idea how happy the locals will be to see us.”

“OK, but I really do think--”

“Keep a weather eye open. We’ll rendezvous here. I’ll be back before nightfall.” 

Kat watched him stomp off, muddy trail forming behind him.

She shrugged. Lorca wasn’t the only one who could improvise.

 

Gabriel did make it back by nightfall, but only just, and, somehow, even dirtier than when he’d first set out. He looked around in the half-light. There was no sign of Cornwell anywhere. 

“Lorca! Hey! Lorca! Over here!”

Gabriel squinted. Just ahead, a little way down the winding road, light glinted, dappled through the trees. He moved aside a branch and-- he was  _ sure _ that building hadn’t been there before.

“Lorca!” 

A figure waved to him from a table out the front of the building. A table with an umbrella. A table with an umbrella, underneath a neon sign. A table with an umbrella, underneath a neon sign that read  _ SELRAG’S BAR.  _

Oh, for--

“What the hell are you doing?” he said as he approached.

“It’s a local custom called ‘having a cocktail’. Don’t worry, I followed First Contact protocols,” Cornwell replied, looking up at him from over the top of her drink. “They know we come in peace.”

Gabriel heard the barman snort with laughter.

He folded his arms. 

“Hope you had more luck finding a campsite than I did with the emergency beacon, because--”

“Oh yeah, that.” There was a pause as Cornwell finished her drink, scooting her straw around the bottom of the glass to get at the last few drops. “While you were off sightseeing, I got in touch with our instructors. They’re sending a team to come pick us up. Should be here in a few hours.”

“You … how?”

Cornwell jerked a thumb at the comms system behind the bar. 

“I improvised.”

Cornwell grinned at the expression on his face.

“Selrag?” she called over her shoulder, waving her empty glass at the barman. “I think we’re going to need a couple more of these…”


End file.
